


No Place for Mer

by missema



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M, Racism, Smithing, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-18
Updated: 2012-07-27
Packaged: 2017-11-08 00:29:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/437110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missema/pseuds/missema
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A kmeme prompt for a male Nord that falls in love with a Altmer Dragonborn, who faces prejudice in Skyrim.<br/>Balimund's own feelings are conflicted, but her cannot deny his attraction to the Altmer Dragonborn Mina.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A woman stopped just near him and loomed overhead, casting a shadow over where Balimund sat working at his forge in Riften. He could tell it was a woman, the steps had been too light and quick for a man, after years of working with his head down, he'd become able to discern such little, unimportant facts. When Balimund looked up to see whom it was, he was nearly shocked off his seat, and truly, little shocked the smith these days.

It was a High Elf standing before him, in her golden-skinned, pointy-eared flesh. Of all the people he'd thought he might see, it hadn't been her. Whispers had already reached Riften that there was a new Dragonborn, an elf of her very description, though he hadn't paid the rumors much heed. It boggled his mind that the gift, the blood that granted the Tiber Septim his victories, had been bestowed upon an elf. If she was a Thalmor agent, the Aldmeri Dominion could crush the lands of men once and for all, ending any thoughts of war, but he suspected she wasn't since she was moving freely about Skyrim, without an official Thalmor escort or guard. All of these thoughts ran through his mind as his eyes raked over her before he even opened his mouth to speak to the girl in front of him.

"The Jarl's son sent me for his sword." She said simply. Her voice was light and breathy, softer than he'd expected. He almost smiled at her, charmed by her voice, but he didn't, couldn't bring himself to flirt with her.

"Huh. Harrald sent you to get it when I'm just a stone's throw from the Keep." Balimund snickered to himself, thinking of the hopeless son of the Jarl. Not that Laila was anything great herself, but she was in good with Maven Black-Briar, and wasn't stupid enough to cross her. Divines help them if Harrald took over, he might actually suffer from the delusion that he alone would be able to rule.

"Here you go." Balimund said, handing the sword over. "Tell Harrald his blade would last longer if he wasn't slaying walls." He had barely been able to repair the damage this time, next time he might have to forge a whole new blade.

"Thank you." The elf replied graciously, accepting the sword. "I'm Mina." She added, sticking out her hand for him to shake.

Later, he realized he shouldn't have looked into her eyes, should have just shook her hand and gotten back to work. But he did, he looked into those dark amber eyes, beautiful and slanted, framed by warpaint that emphasized their shape, curling dark tendrils decorating the corners of her eyes and her forehead. Balimund looked at her, at the plump lips that were colored with a slivery lavender color that matched the shade of her hair, at the pale gold limbs that were long and shapely with a hint of muscle, and lastly at the slender, elegant fingers of her proffered hand. He took it in his and shook it, keenly away of his rough, calloused hands, covered in old burns and thick skin, unattractive and ungainly compared to hers.

"Balimund, but you know that already. I'm the smith here in Riften." He said lamely, unable to think of anything else to say.

"So I see. Thank you again. Perhaps I shall return later." Mina said, her hand still in his.

"You should. I might have something you'd like."

Mina smiled at him and withdrew her hand from his, giving him a small wave before she left. Balimund stood back, watching her leave. She moved gracefully, almost as if she glided instead of walked, and he could imagine her stalking like a sabre cat as she sneaked up on prey. The image made a smile curl at the edges of his lips until he realized, he might just be the prey.

######

He'd had a night of restless sleep, forcing his thoughts away from his chance encounter with the Dragonborn with little success. Balimund was haggard and tired when he next clapped eyes upon her. So Mina had come back, just as she'd said, the sight of her filling him with an unwelcome trill of excitement that manifested as an annoyed grimace. The work that he and Asbjorn were backed up on was piling up dangerously high, due to his slow pace. Had he just ignored her and not stopped he might not have to work well into the night to try and make up for his distractedness. But Balimund wanted to see her again more than he didn't, and he beckoned her closer with a curious glance as he quenched a steel blade.

"Hello there, Mina. Come to see Balimund work miracles with steel?" He called out the greeting, modifying one of his usual sayings for her. At her name, she'd looked up at him and gave a small laugh, the tinkling sound gentle as the flapping of butterfly wings, and just as lost on the wind, beautiful and sweet as it died out.

"May I trade with you? I've been all around Skyrim recently and collected plenty of weapons and armor." She said, taking out her pack. The mismatched items looked typical of what he saw from someone that traveled frequently, though he had to admit that he was impressed by some of her things. It was clear that she was no common bandit, for her blades were well cared for, and the pieces of armor she wore all smithed with reasonable ability. As they traded, he buying her things and offering her some replacements or upgrades, he studied her again, this time more in depth than he'd had a chance to the previous day.

Like many of the elves he'd encountered, she used magic when she fought, and it made his hackles rise. Nords weren't used to spellwork, not like elves or Bretons, and they found it suspicious even before warring with the Altmer. Many people downright hated mages, though Balimund knew how effective a good enchantment could be on a blade. He should have noticed before, the hood she wore was part of a mage's set, though she had it coupled with light armor instead of robes. Her jewelry also glowed with enchantments, and more than once Balimund found himself glancing at the slight swell of her breasts, where the amulet she had tucked under armor disappeared and wondered what magic it was imbued with and how the jewels would look framed upon the backdrop of her gorgeous skin.

Physically, she was even more striking up close. Altmer were tall and thin, taller than Nords and she stood above him, but where he was bulky with muscle, she was lean and leggy. The lines of her body didn't curve as much as they swept, outlining a rangy, elegant frame covered in skin that held the luminous quality of the setting sun, molten gold shining down its last rays, ending a day of divine light.

"Are you from the Summerset Isles?" Balimund asked as they finished their business. She stiffened at the question, and pursed her lips as if she didn't want to answer in the affirmative.

"I was." She said finally, shaking her head at him. "A long time ago." Before he could follow up with another question, she reached out, touching his arm lightly and she diverted him with a bright smile. "Your forge is quite the wonder." She began.

From the corner, Asbjorn said nothing, but Balimund heard his "harumph" of displeasure as he explained about the Fire Salts that his forge used to Mina. She nodded slowly as he spoke, then offered to find more.

"It would do me a world of good if you could find them. You'd save my forge."

"Consider it done." Mina assured him. "I'll be back soon."


	2. Chapter 2

"Balimund, what are you doing associating with that Thalmor?" Asbjorn asked him in a hushed voice when they retired for the day. Balimund groaned inwardly, disappointed in his young apprentice, not just in the wording of the question, but at the sentiment.

They lived in the age of suspicion and resentment that often followed warfare, the emotional collateral damage always snaked far deeper into a society than either side liked to admit. Balimund had heard the guards addressing Mina as 'elf' when she walked by, their disdain clear, but he hadn't expected his own apprentice to voice such hostility. Asbjorn was like a son to him, and though he had not taught him to hate, he hadn't taught him not to either. Shame cowed him into sitting down in the chair in front of the fire, a pain in his chest. Balimund was ashamed that he'd the resentment of the Nord society shape the young man, who was normally so gentle, into something jagged and discordant.

It was true that he himself had reservations about the Altmer, and disliked the menacing presence of the Justiciars in Skyrim, policing the people for evidence of Talos worship. That was what Ulfric got people worked up about, used it as a tool to justify his war, as if they hadn't seen enough bloodshed in Skyrim long before they'd started killing each other. But Mina, just thinking her name sent ripples of unrestrained want screaming through him, the kind he hadn't felt for many years, and never for an elf. She hadn't done anything but simply be in Skyrim, but to many this was offense enough.

"She's not a Thalmor." Balimund began, holding up his large hand when Asbjorn began to protest. "If she were, wouldn't she be espousing that Mer over Man dribble instead of helping the Jarl and trading with us?" He posed the question to make the younger man think, and fell silent for a moment before continuing.

"Are you afraid of her?"

Asbjorn shrugged his slight shoulders in a valiant attempt to seem indifferent, but his eyes flickered nervously, betraying the truth. Balimund sighed heavily, standing up to place a reassuring hand on Asbjorn's shoulder.

"Son, you've inherited an old prejudice, as old as Tamriel, but don't let other people make up your mind about individuals simply because of where they come from. Would you want anyone to judge you by the way Grelod acts?" He asked, knowing the answer, how everyone in Riften felt about the hateful old witch that ran the orphanage. "The Altmer aren't very unlike us, though many on both sides want people to think we're all so different. The Dragonborn should be judged on her deeds and hers alone." Balimund fumbled as he spoke, trying to make his point, words eluding him, but in the end, he thought he did well enough.

"You're right, Balimund, and I apologize." Asbjorn hung his shorn head. "I've no right to harbor ill feelings towards her, but that doesn't mean I don't have eyes. She's a pretty one, and seems to have your attention."

Balimund couldn't suppress his grin, but it displayed itself in the color of his inflection rather than on his face. "I'm afraid that's where this talk ends." He said, readying himself for dinner. He wasn't going to admit how much he liked her, not to anyone, not yet. Before yesterday, she'd been nothing more than a rumor, a whispered possibility that didn't seem possible.

######

If she hadn't been able to take care of herself, he would never have met her, Balimund consoled himself with the sentiment often during the next fortnight, as he thought of her off in Skyrim, on her own. It brought him little real comfort, but when he found his mind wandering off over the vast tundras of his homeland to find her, it kept him from dwelling on the thought. His thoughts strayed too often, and his hands bore more burns than they had when he was an apprentice.

It was late one evening, sun nearly set, when he saw the hooded, slender figure that was a head taller than all she passed. She was striding through the market just as the stalls were closing, and Balimund watched her look down as someone spoke to her, but she turned her face away quickly and kept walking, as if she had never stopped. When she reached him, he had already turned away from the grindstone and was standing, waiting for her.

"You've returned!" He couldn't stop his cheer and relief from seeping into his voice, and it made her lose the carefully closed look on her vulpine face and soften into a smile.

"I have, and I found your fire salts. It wasn't hard actually." She said, lowering her hood, letting her silver-lavender tresses out to glow in the moonlight. Balimund wondered if they smelled of lavender, if when he leaned closer, as if he were to kiss her, would he smell the herb.

"It wasn't?" He asked as she produced the fire salts.

She gave him a smile of her own as she answered. "Well, it wasn't any extra trouble." He reached out a hand to take the salts from her, and brushed her hand with his, sending warmth spiraling outward from where their skin met.

Had they been concentrating less on each other, they might have noticed the interloper. A small man in filthy rags came up behind Mina, the same man that had called her names in the market as she passed through to get to Balimund. But as it was, they didn't notice him, not until it was too late.

Warm water fell on Mina's feet, covering her boots in a steady stream until she realized that she was being urinated on. Her head whipped around and she jumped out of the path of her attacker, who was giggling madly to himself, thinking of how clever he was. "There's a reason you're the color of piss, elf." He muttered in between laughs.

The whole of the market square was quiet, eyes turned upon them, and Balimund noticed that the guards were doing nothing, though several on duty were witnessing the scene. Faster than he could raise his fist, Mina shot flame at the man, in a steady stream from her right hand, the other held back. It lasted but a moment, she was merciful when Balimund might have killed a man for profaning him in such a way. When she stopped, the air was thick with the sickening smell of charred hair and flesh, and the man that had thought himself so clever lay on the ground, his exposed bits covered in burns, the hair that had once been there wiped away by magical fire, replaced by angry, raw flesh.

Still no one else moved around them, not even the guards to arrest her, and Mina stood over the man, as menacing as she beautiful, still armed with her magic. "You should think about your actions, friend, and whether you can pay the price. I can kill you with my voice, as Ulfric did the High King. Best you move along and get that looked at, otherwise you'll be in a worse way in the morning." She said in a matter of fact voice, that hid everything she needed it to hide.

Balimund saw the tears welling her eyes as he helped her step out of the soaked boots and then lead her, barefoot, into The Scorched Hammer.


	3. Chapter 3

He pointed her through the house, a hand still resting on the small of her back. "If you want to wash yourself, should be a bucket of water and soap through there. You'll find it easy enough." Balimund said, letting go of the shaken woman. "Leave your armor, and I'll take care of it." He offered, and she nodded.

"That filthy swine! Imagine doing that, to a lady." Asbjorn started, seething at what he'd just seen, how the guards did nothing. He didn't have much love to spare for Altmer, but there was no reason to resort to such awful things in public.

Mina turned and held up a hand. "It's understandable, a lot of people have misplaced anger. I look like the people hurt them, fought with them, came and took over when some of their sons never came back. I can't say I like it, but I understand." She said sadly, then trudged away, her shoulders slumped.

With her words, both Asbjorn and Balimund were shamed, but for different reasons. Balimund had been prepared for tears, or even some righteous anger, but understanding was harder for him to grasp. Her kind were part of the conquering army, and they didn't have to understand or even respect Skyrim and her people, they could impose their rule and culture upon them. Isn't that what people did, assimilate the losers of wars, eradicate the culture by imposing their own? But she was here, living amongst them, just living and even helping them. It made him want to know her, to really spend time with her and appreciate more than just how pretty she was. There was a gravity to Mina that Balimund hadn't previously seen, though admittedly, his thoughts about her didn't get very deep.

"Balimund?" Mina's soft voice called to him from further inside his house, a strange and thrilling event, them having any visitor, let alone her.

"Set another plate for dinner." He instructed Asbjorn in a low voice before responding to the summons.

When he got to the back of the house, Mina was in his room. It took him a moment to register the scene before his eyes, but she'd changed and smelled like soap, all traces of befoulment gone. She looked as if she belonged there, standing next to his bed, barefoot still, but wearing a dress instead of her armor. Her hands smoothed down the fabric in front, as if she'd never worn the dress before. If she hadn't that was a crime, because the low-cut tavern style dress looked as if it were made for her. Tight in the bodice, the bottom flowed, hem dancing along her legs, the dress shorter on her than it would have been on a Nord woman, because of her height.

"Mina?" He said, once he regained his voice. She looked up, giving him a nervous smile before speaking.

"I don't have any shoes."

"What?"

"My boots, I always wore them. I don't have anything else, well not here." She explained.

"Oh, sit down. I'm sure I've got something." He said, already turning to search in his closet. Within moments, he pulled out a pair of fur shoes that would give her something to wear until she got new boots. He didn't have any leather boots made, but he could replace hers in the morning, if she so desired.

He wanted to put them on for her, to slide a hand up those smooth, golden legs that he could finally see. If he were to just motion for her to sit, he could make sure that neither of them left the bedroom for the rest of the night. Hands would explore upward, to touch the skin covered by the dress, tantalizingly near yet out of reach. Longing welled within him as he thought of her breasts, wondering what color the peaks were, and how they would respond to the touch of his fingertips. Rough though his hands may be, they held a finesse that came from years of work, strength and temperance, able to be steady and gentle in equal measure.

Balimund dropped the shoes on the floor in front of her with a resigned smile. "Come join us for dinner."

 

"I'm Thane of Whiterun hold." Mina giggled, flushed in the face from too much mead with her dinner. Balimund held in a chuckle as he watched her, movements growing more expansive as the night wore on. She was no Nord, that much clear, and the liquor had taken hold of her. She was perched in the seat to his left, losing her rigid posture as the night went on, talking with him and Asbjorn well after they'd finished with the food in front of them. Her face glowed golden and flushed a rosy color, amber eyes dancing in the firelight.

"Thane of Whiterun." Asbjorn let out a low whistle after he spoke, clearly impressed. "What did you do there?"

"Got a stone for the court wizard, killed a dragon. I have a house there, but I'm afraid my housecarl is just sitting in there with my stuff."

"Are you really dragonborn?" Asbjorn asked, and in response she opened her mouth and spoke, her voice like a whisper, but still a shout, and he understood why she'd turned away from them before doing it. The force behind it made the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, it wasn't magic as he understood it, but power.

"I can speak as the dragon's do effortlessly, and I absorb their power whenever I kill one. That was Aura Whisper. I mostly use it in unknown places to see if there are other living things around."

"Do you get lonely, adventuring as you do?" Balimund asked, and she turned to him, frowning as she thought. It was a vain hope that she might have thought of him on her last outing, wondering if he was just another task on her list, or if he had been something warmer.

"Yes and no. I miss having people to talk to, but I am new to Skyrim and don't have many friends. But there are times when I long to be out and am stuck in a city. Windhelm was particularly unpleasant." She said, prettily wrinkling her nose.

"They are no friends to elves there." Balimund stated, and she nodded.

"Yes, well, I only got rotted food thrown at me when I was in the Grey Quarter with the Dunmer. But the city is filled with hate, not just for elves but for the Argonians as well. The marsh people aren't even allowed into the city. I was glad to leave there." Mina said with another frown, her eyes far away as she remembered. Instead of talking more, she stood and stretched, Balimund's head heavy with mead, not even trying to conceal that he was watching her golden limbs unfurl.

"I should get to the Bee and Barb. But thank you both, you've been so kind."

Asbjorn nodded, mumbling a goodnight to her as he left the room, leaving her alone with Balimund. He would have laughed at his apprentice, hastily retreating from the room as if he had been ordered away, but he had been hoping to speak to her alone before she left. It seemed surreal that the evening had begun with her being accosted in the market, but ended with her standing drunk in his home, wearing borrowed shoes.

"You said you had few friends in Skyrim. I hope you count me among them." Balimund said softly, standing next to her as she stood near the door.

"I count you chief amongst them, Balimund, especially after tonight."

He swallowed hard, then nodded at her. "If you come back in the morning, I can make you new boots. I doubt the smell would come out of the other ones."

"Alright." She said, giving him one last smile, and left, opening the door to let in the night as she walked away.


	4. Chapter 4

Mina was around Riften regularly for a time, and Balimund grew spoiled with the sight of her, becoming accustomed to her presence. Daily visits to the market ensured that he saw her as he worked, going to the different stalls, even charming a smile out of grumpy Grelka, whom he didn't think was even capable of smiling. There was little chance for them to talk, it seemed as if she were perpetually busy, though she came by to trade with him from time to time. He saw her talking to Brynjolf and wanted to warn her away from the thief, jealousy rising within him as he heard her tinkling laugh at some jest Brynjolf made. The two of them looked quite cozy together, and Balimund resumed his work, though the sight had put his teeth on edge.  
  
After the incident with the beggar, no one mentioned her Altmer heritage anymore, as if it had never happened, though he thought of it often. Her display had given the whole town cause to tread carefully around her, and her extended stay in Riften likely an attempt to foster trust. He knew little of her, of her past or what she may have endured before, if she had been subjected to such indignities before coming to Skyrim.  
  
A thought flickered in his mind, trying to recall what it had been like when the Bosmer woman, Anuriel was made Jarl Laila's steward, but he couldn't remember anything as overt and hateful as what happened to Mina. Anuriel's position and well-known relationship with the hulking housecarl, Unmid Snow-Shod might have discouraged any thoughts of action against her, and the hate for the Bosmer wasn't quite as potent as it was for the Altmer.  
  
Still, it bothered Balimund, settling into his mind, unable to work its way out. His work made him strong, though not as intimidating as Unmid and wondered if he could protect Mina, were she his. Those thoughts led to the heart of his conflict - the way he felt about elves and Mina. His past had been spent making weapons for one war, one conflict or another, his steel had taken many elven lives. He was old enough to remember, but not so old as to let them memories be tainted with new spite and bitterness. When he spoke with her, he only saw Mina, but when left alone with his thoughts, negative parti pris of the Mer already coloring his thoughts, making him question himself for his attraction to her.  
  
"Will you teach me Smithing?" She asked, walking up to him as the afternoon sun blazed overhead. He'd been watching her out of the corner of his eye, excitement rising when she headed in his direction. Brynjolf was gone from the market square, no longer badgering people to buy the potion that would allow them to 'make love like a sabre cat'.  
  
"You want to do what I do?" Balimund asked in return, arching a pale brow at her. When she nodded enthusiastically he consented with, "very well".  
  
They stood together near the forge, with him first showing her how to make an elven sword, explaining each step slowly, as he had with Asbjorn when he first took him on as an apprentice. He knew how to make such weapons, but didn't often create any. People in Riften didn't want an elven blade, preferring their steel, and few had the skill to wield such a weapon. But he would make it for her, he wanted to show her that he could, that he wanted to make it for her.  
  
When it was her turn to start, he stood back and watched, monitoring her movements carefully. Normally, he would have been using a critical, teacher's eye and carefully helping her avoid defects, but the very nearness of her made his thoughts sluggish, though his heart raced. She was bringing the metal to the correct temperature when her hand began to shake, and Balimund, unthinkingly, covered it with both of his own, standing with his arms around her, supporting her wavering hands with the strength in his.  
  
Though the nearness of her had made him slower, it paled, was absolutely nothing compared to actually touching her. Feeling her body against his made him dizzy with desire, and his mind racing with incoherent thoughts of lust. Stifling a groan he rededicated his focus on the blade they were forging together, willing his body to concentrate solely on the metal, the work that couldn't afford distraction.  
  
Through his clothes and apron, she leaned against him, warming his skin until he could rival the forge with the heat they created. His chest was pressed to her back as they both held onto the blade, and Balimund could feel her short, shallow breaths shuddering through her body to his chest. At least it he wasn't imagining the undercurrent between them, though it only served to fuel his inner turmoil.  
  
When they no longer required the forge, but the hammer, he backed away, both needing the space and reluctant to leave her. Balimund instructed her at a distance, watchful as she honed the metal, drawing the sword, forming the shape. She was skilled, and followed his instructions well, though the process was slow. After annealing, she left her sword to start the slow cooling process that would make it easier to grind, promising to return later. Balimund set it aside, his heart still pounding from his contact with her as he forced himself back to work.  
  
Brand-Shei made a point of coming over to talk to Balimund in the afternoon, sauntering over in a way that was nearly casual but didn't quite hide his determination in his step.  
  
"Is she yours?" He asked as an opening, deliberately shooting past niceties and getting right to the point.  
  
"Mina?" Balimund shook his head. "I'm not sure a High Elf would want a relationship with an old Nord smith."  
  
"From where I was standing, it didn't look as if she objected."  
  
Balimund brought his head up to aim a frown at the Dunmer as his practiced hands used the grindstone. "Was just teaching her smithing, at her request." He grumbled, uncomfortable with Brand-Shei'd observation.  
  
"Whatever you say, friend," Brand-Shei began. "Be as stubborn as you want, but I just wanted to suggest that perhaps you warn your friend about Brynjolf. She might not understand the dangers he puts a pleasing face on."  
  
The smith stayed silent, considering Brand-Shei's request. When he didn't respond, the elf pressed on. "You Nords are fighting each other right now, but it won't always be that way, nor will it always be resentment for the Altmer. Enemies and allegiances have a fluidity that can be swifter than consciousness. You take allies where you can find them when you need them. I mean, where would I be if not for kind Argonians?" He posed the question but continued on without a break. "If you like her, at least warn her about the Thieves Guild. Then maybe let her know how you feel."  
  
"Why do you care?"  
  
"She did me a great service, finding out about my past for me. I consider Mina a friend." He said, pulling himself up to his fullest height and puffing out his chest, as if the mention of his past had filled his spine with steel.  
  
"Friend, but yet you didn't go to her." Balimund pointed out.  
  
"I already said my piece about the Thieves Guild to her. I just thought it might be more convincing coming from you. Suit yourself." He said, walking off.  
  
Would she even listen? Did he have her attention as Brand-Shei thought, or would he be making an arse of himself? Balimund sighed as he worked on, thinking of what he might say when she came back. She'd first come to Riften barely a month ago, but had his life, his whole way of thinking and living torn asunder in the time since her arrival. The worst part was, Balimund liked her too much to wish for it to go back to the way it had been, and for that he considered himself a fool.


	5. Chapter 5

Darkness descended upon the town, and though Balimund had worked late many nights, a foreboding settled down around him as he kept himself busy, seeing no sign of Mina.  Eventually, he was forced to retire for the night, without seeing her again.  

When he got into bed, he couldn't help but hear the doubts that so often plagued him about her.  Hoping that nothing was wrong, that she would come back.  His doubts laughed at him, taunting, telling him that she must be hiding something, or be so unreliable that she couldn't be bothered to finish her lesson.  Perhaps her absence hinted at some darker secret, a husband or wife out there waiting for her, children that needed her.  

Mostly he thought of himself, how backwards and Nordic he must seem to her, how she must see him as primitive and strange, as he found the Altmeri superior and haughty. Would a woman like her really want him, or was they both simply fascinated by their differences?  Humans and Altmer could breed together, but he didn't claim to even want children outside of Asbjorn, and had never properly entertained the thought.  Doubts about everything, her heritage and his, warred with memories of every smile, every word spoken between the two of them, and he ended up with no reassurances, but simply more questions.  Too many thoughts swirled in his head, making him too tired to sleep.

When he returned the next morning, he expected to find her there, or at least see the familiar sight of her crossing the market on her long legs, coming towards him, but the hope never manifested into reality.  It was as if after all her time in Riften she'd needed to escape, longing to be back out on one of her adventures as she'd told him and Asbjorn the night they'd dined together.  Gloom settled over Balimund as he finished the dagger for her and set it aside, not putting it with the other wares that he sold.

The chatter from Mistveil Keep was that the Jarl was close to naming her a Thane, and he wondered if that had anything to do with her sudden departure from the city.  Balimund usually had little time for courtly politics, but he kept his ears open for news of Mina, scant though it was.  He felt her absence, more than he had previously, and he felt a little resentment that she didn't tell him before she departed.  He was aware that this was completely irrational, as he'd said to Brand-Shei, Mina wasn't his and she had no responsibility to inform him of her whereabouts.

The days without her in Riften seemed to stretch on for an interminable amount of time, and it was only with Asbjorn and the fires of his forge that he had patience.  When speaking to others he was inclined to short answers and grunts more than was usual for him, his temper fouler without word of Mina.   Brand-Shei came by again, this time a more friendly visit and asked about her, though Balimund could only shrug a response to his questions.  If he acted nonchalantly to others, perhaps his own mind would follow suit.  

"I'm sure she's alright."  The Dunmer tried to assure him, after he learned that Balimund knew nothing of where she'd gone.  The worry in his eyes betrayed the lie behind the words, and Balimund realized that it was more than just a platitude, but a hope.  They all hoped she was alright, for her sake as well as his.  Try as he might to seem indifferent, a connection had been forged between him and Mina, and all of the town recognized it.

"Yeah.  Thanks for stopping by."  Balimund offered in response to the unexpected kindness.

"Anytime."  Brand-Shei said before walking back towards his stall.  He stopped to talk to speak to Madesi as he did, both of them throwing worried glances in Balimund's general direction.  It seemed that Mina wasn't the only person they were worried about.  He'd lived in Riften the whole of his life, but it seemed like Mina had been the one to bring the town together again, and he felt only disquiet when he thought of her sudden disappearance.  

#####

It hardly ever rained in Riften, but when it did, it was warm and steady, pelting the ground to soften the earth mixed with dried leaves, soaking in as it fed the crops and trees that colored the landscape.  Balimund heard it raining around him as he worked, but didn't stop.  He'd stopped counting the days since she'd left, but he knew how many it had been despite his efforts not to keep track.

The thoughts that had plagued him before, doubts about Mina had vanished, gone with the desperate need to see her again.  He missed her, and it was well past time he told her, confessed, said something and ended this awful state of persistent unknowing and guessing. 

By the time she reappeared, he'd almost given up on her.  Not completely, not ever, but almost.

"Balimund.  I'm so sorry I never returned to finish my blade."  Mina puffed, coming up to him at his forge, the rain coming down around them.  She'd obviously been walking and looking tired, her hair was wet and plastered to her head, and he noticed that she was wearing robes instead of her armor.  They were distractingly clingy, but also showed how thin she'd become, even more than she'd been before and he felt a rush of compassion for her, knowing that whatever had taken her from Riften likely had been duty.

"It's alright, I set finished it and set it aside for you, though I wasn't sure if you would return."  He said, suddenly bashful after he'd awaited her return for so long.  "But it's good to see you again."  Balimund wanted to tell her how he'd missed her, all the things that caused war within him, the doubts he'd tamped down just in the hopes of spending time with her again, but his tongue felt tied and useless, so he just smiled dumbly at her, doubting she could see his grin in the enveloping darkness.

Time felt suspended for a breathless moment as she smiled wearily back at him, looking genuinely pleased.  She flicked her wet hair away from her face, and he could tell by her movements that she was nervous.  He couldn't understand why.

"Is everything alright, Mina?"  Balimund asked returning his attention to the forge, though he desperately wanted to keep his eyes on her.

"No, but this really isn't the time to get into it.  It's good to see you as well.  I'll see you in the morning, right?"  She was asking, her voice slightly higher and softer than normal, making him strain to hear but he nodded at her.  He was always at the forge; more than he liked to me in some times, but the war kept him busy.  Mina smiled at him again and slid into the shadows, he heard the door to the Bee and Barb open and shut, but didn't see her moving in the darkness.

After she left, Balimund had a feeling that he'd missed something important, that she hadn't just come directly to him to say hello and announce her presence in Riften.  Though he was glad of her return, he didn't think she'd come straight to him in the rain just to exchange a few words.

The next morning she returned, and with one glance at her, he saw what he'd missed the night before.  An Amulet of Mara hung from around her golden neck like a beacon, and he saw her flutter nervously around his grindstone, standing above him as he worked.


	6. Chapter 6

"An Amulet of Mara." He blurted, unable to keep the words in as they formed in his head. "You're looking for marriage?"

"Yes, well, I mean if the right person asked. I just wanted to let them know that I was available." Mina grew red in the face as she tried to explain, a dusky rose creeping across her golden features. Like a damn breaking, she started speaking again at high speed, words tumbling from her as she tried to explain.

"I know that I'm not an ideal candidate." She continued, nervously twisting a lock of hair around her finger as she spoke rapidly. "I'm the Dragonborn, and I have responsibilities. Dangerous ones that take me away from the cities and have me chasing down relics and people at all times. I'll understand if you'd rather not spend your time worried about me while I'm away. My duties go beyond that of mere work, but I thought that it would be nice to have someone special to come home to, someone who missed me when I was gone, someone who might appreciate all the fire salts I pick up in battle." She finished, giving him a hesitant smile, her eyes questioning.

It was as if there was a buzzing in his ears, and he was glad he was already seated. Mina was proposing, to him. "You want me? Not an elf?" He had to ask, though even as the words escaped his mouth, they sounded stupid to his own ears. Though he decided to put aside his own qualms of being with an elf, he still found it hard to believe that Mina wanted him, an old human smith.

"Do you see me asking anyone else? I keep putting this amulet on when I come to see you, and you've just now noticed!" Mina burst out laughing, and Balimund's own sheepish laughter joined her own. All of the tension between them seemed to float away on the backs of their mirth, and he felt himself relax as he grinned up at her. How long she had been wearing that amulet under her armor, how many visits she'd made hoping he would see it?

"I want you. Nobody else." She said, answering his questions with a serious look in her amber eyes. "Skyrim isn't alway kind to Mer, but I never thought it mattered to you." She said, frowning slightly at him.

"It didn't, I mean, it doesn't. I just like you. Care about you." Balimund said in a low voice, the few, inelegant words summarizing his feelings. As much as he'd worried and wondered, it always came back to one irrefutable fact - he cared for Mina. "And I do miss you when you're gone." He added, thinking about how despondent he'd been when she'd left without a word.

"So let's get married." Mina said, her soft voice barely more than a whisper as she suggested it, though it almost felt like she was shouting. "I can go talk to the priest and arrange it."

Balimund nodded, not trusting his voice. Happiness flowed through him, edging out the trepidation that he felt, and he wondered if being married to Mina would be as distracting as just for

ging a blade with her. He stood up from the grindstone, facing her, and ran a finger down her cheek. She closed her eyes at the contact, leaning into his touch. It was almost too heady to think that they'd be wed, and wanted to go demand that the temple perform the ceremony right that instant.

The moment broke and Mina pulled away, giving him a dreamy smile that made him want to close up for the day and spend time with her. "I'll be right back." She declared.

Word spread so rapidly through town about their impending marriage that Balimund hadn't even had time to tell his apprentice the news before people were already upon him. It was nearly overwhelming, the crush of interested people that came over to him, the glances thrown his way as he tried to work, all while smiling through conversations and congratulations. Maven Black-Briar was the first to come by, though she didn't want it to seem as if it were important to her to be the first, and deigned to speak to him in a nearly convivial manner, tossing a casual word of felicitations over her shoulder as she passed.

"Ah, so you've finally decided to take the plunge, I see. Best wishes to you, my friend. I can't tell you how wonder it's been to having my wife, Nivenor, by my side for all these years." Bolli said. The smith wasn't quite sure what to make of the statement, since Bolli spent as much time in Haelga's bed as she would allow, and Nivenor never seemed particularly happy, but he thought it best to just accept the good wishes.

Mjoll and Aerin wandered over, both effusive with their cheery well-wishes. The two of them might soon be petitioners for Mara's grace themselves, if Aerin ever found the courage to speak up. Mjoll was a sweet woman, good-hearted but too dense for her own good when it came to Aerin. Mina was making her way back to him, but she was also beset by people, an enthusiastic Brand-Shei was talking to her. She smiled over the Dunmer's shoulder at Balimund, and he returned it, ignoring the people around them for a moment. Already the connection between them felt strong, and seemed right.

"Triflings of some peasant wedding reached my ears." Harrald, the Jarl's son had somehow found his way down from the Keep without assistance. "And I came to offer my congratulations once I found out it was for you and the elf that mother might name Thane." Balimund raised an eyebrow at that description, but thanked Harrald, who didn't leave, but continued to linger over the forge, as if he didn't realize that it was filled with flame and needed by the smith to work. "Balimund, I'm surprised to see you, of all people, settling down with an Altmeri wench. I thought you were a loyal son of Skyrim."

Balimund looked up, his hackles raised by the comment. "Mind how you speak of my bride, boy." He cautioned, drawing himself up. "You sound like Ulfric with that nonsense. Whom I marry has nothing to do with Skyrim or this war." Harrald could offer no counter to the statement, but hawkishly watched Balimund with narrowed eyes as he worked, as if he had somehow changed allegiance with his decision to marry Mina.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Balimund finally asked, when his patience could be tested no longer by the stupidity of the jarl's son. If the boy stayed any longer, he might find himself covered in severe burns with a few swipes from his sword thrown in for good measure. Anger was brewing inside of him, and he couldn't keep the edge from his voice. A smarter man than he could have trapped the Jarl's arrogant brat with his own words, tripped him up and made a fool of him, but all Balimund had was the anger the burned white hot like his forge.

He was a smith - he knew metal and patience, steel and heat, but not the intricacies of besting with words and subtle jabs. The deficiency made him feel weak, for surely Mina could defend herself if attacked with a sword, but he was nearly useless to keep her from being hurt by the more hateful attacks of words that would be leveled at them. A hand fell upon his shoulder, the touch light, and he wasn't surprised to see Mina there, standing between him and Harrald.

"If you could excuse us." She said in a tight voice to Harrald, her words harsher than he'd ever heard them, though not entirely devoid of the breathy quality of her voice. "I need to speak with my intended." Harrald nodded an imperious goodbye at the two of them, looking down his nose before turning away, and Mina beckoned him inside the Scorched Hammer.

"Don't know how much of that you heard." He began, feeling the need to apologize for Harrald.

"Enough." She was still upset, her lips pressed into a line. "But there are always going to be people like that, idiots that want to make their hateful opinion known." She sighed. "I'm just sorry it had to mar our happiness. It is still such a nice day, no matter what Harrald or his mother thinks of our match. He doesn't strike me as the type to form too many of his own opinions, so I suspect he's just parroting hers."

"Mina, I." Balimund didn't know what he wanted to say, just that he wanted to say something. "It's been hard for me, in my head, because you're an elf. But it doesn't matter, it didn't stop us from wanting each other. I just..." He trailed off, worried that he'd upset her. She was giving him a curious look as if she were holding her tongue, impatiently waiting for him to get it out or perhaps hiding a smile. "Can't help men hating elves or vice versa. Just don't want you to hear it all the time."

She was still looking at him strangely, but crossed to him and without warning dropped her head and kissed him. Her lips were full and soft against his own, and he readily accepted the unbidden kiss. For a moment all he could do was tangle his hand in her hair, tease her tongue with his own, take in her sweet taste, like honeysuckle. It was bliss, the unexpected affection better than he'd hoped, sweeter since she'd initiated it, wanting him as much as he wanted her. Soon they parted, both pulling away for air before the kiss could become more than exploratory.

"You want to protect me from all the racists and idiots in Skyrim? Well then, I'm glad we're getting married, because that's a full-time job." She giggled. Balimund's answering chuckle was smothered by another kiss, this one he had the chance to enjoy properly before they broke away.

"Thank you." She said with a somber smile that let him know that it wasn't just his defense of her, but his honesty that she was thanking him for. "I'll see you tomorrow. Bad luck to see the bride before the wedding, you know." Mina said, smiling as she went back out to Riften.

Inside the darkened room, Balimund's face had a dazed smile on it, his mind focused on the kisses he could still feel on his lips. Heat raced through him, clouding his mind, making him wish he could have abandoned his work for the day and spent it with her. If her kisses left him in such a stupor, he could hardly wait for after the wedding tomorrow.


	7. Chapter 7

Hours seemed to pass with unnatural haste, and before the first light, he bathed and shaved, taking extra time to do both, then walked over to the Temple of Mara alone. Asbjorn would be arrive just behind him, he'd heard the lad getting dressed as he left, but he couldn't stand to wait any longer. He was nervous, his feet tapping against the wood floor to a beat like the skittering of his heart. Time sped as Balimund stood there, waiting for Mina, smiling as she came through the door in a pretty blue dress, a jeweled circlet atop her head. Neither one of them were dressed in finery, but the modesty suited them, reflecting the temperament of the couple. At the sight of her, Balimund felt surge of happiness sweep through him, and an inner calm that he never would have associated with getting married.  
  
The words of matrimony drifted over him as Maramal performed the ceremony, and he didn't hesitate when it came time to speak his assent. Mina was still wearing that stunning smile, and it grew larger as she pledged herself to him. It was idyllic, but quick, leaving his head spinning afterwards, even as he was watching their well-wishers leave the Temple of Mara.  
  
"So, we're married now." Mina said, coming up beside him and taking his hand.   
  
"We never talked about where we'd live." He said, the thought just coming to his mind. "You're welcome at The Scorched Hammer."  
  
Instead of answering, they just walked together, the early morning sun shining down on the city around them as they took their first steps together. The sun had dawned fully in the sky, bright and clear overhead, the water below casting twinkles back at them whenever they looked down. They were quiet, both in a dream-like haze that sustained them. Married. It felt like nothing Balimund expected, a shock to his mind.  
  
When the door to his house closed behind them with a puff of dust, Balimund was keenly aware of how alone they were. Asbjorn had gone to work the forge after their wedding, and he could hear the hammer blows clinking against the anvil as he worked outside. Neither of them were looking at each other, bashful as they awkwardly stood together.  
  
"Do you need to bring anything here? I can help you." He offered finally.  
  
Mina's looked down at him, shaking her head. "Not now." She murmured softly. Another moment passed in silence between the two of them before she asked, "Aren't we supposed to be in bed?"  
  
They both laughed at her semi-serious question, their shared levity shattering a wall between them. Balimund nodded at her, a smile lingering on his lips. Mina led, her long legs drifting towards the back of the house, to the bedroom she'd visited once before under more strained circumstances. Had that only been a few months ago when the beggar attacked her? The scene was so visceral he remembered it clearly, but the days after and around were fogged, as if it had been too long ago for him to recall correctly. He felt as if it were years in the past, and wanted nothing more than sate the longing that had been building since before then.  
  
She turned to speak when he followed her in the room, but he caught her mouth with his own, taking her words with his heated kiss. It was as sweet as it had been the day before, but this time it was Balimund who initiated it, gently asserting his desire for his new wife.   
  
Things started off slow between them, the kiss they shared patient and easy, Balimund's lips creeping over her jaw and neck as they stood in the middle of the room. He let his hands meander over her in exploration, fingers outlining her bodice, tracing her figure through her dress. There had never been much words between the two of them, Balimund didn't express himself well with flowery sentiment or embellished phrases, but he wanted it to be known, his desire, explained wordlessly to her through tender touches, his wish to be with her forever. On this day, he didn't have the words to speak of his joy, but he intended to show her.

Balimund lifted the circlet from her head, and went over to put it on the dresser.  The gesture was meant to be thoughtful, but gave him a chance to collect his racing thoughts.  Standing there, he tried to remember, thinking back to the last time he'd done this.  Well, he'd never done exactly this before, not married, and he wanted it to be right, to say what he couldn't quite get out.  A glance down at his hands distracted him, they were burned and calloused, and seemed even more coarse than usual, but she didn't seem to mind.  In fact, she didn't seem to mind any of his many flaws, which awed him.  Mina was peering at him, seeing what was taking him so long, and he smiled over his shoulder and stepped out of his shoes before heading back to her.  
  
Mina was even taller now that his shoes were off, and he felt even more thrown off by that detail as she leaned down to capture his lips again.  The last time he'd lain with someone, it had been quick and furtive, nothing like this at all.  It had been some time ago, before, long before he met Mina.  There were no jealous ex-lovers in his past, be comfortable liaisons and one off dalliances, leaving him free.  Mina was different, and he realized he couldn't actually remember the last time he'd made love to someone, and he had only a few memories to draw upon.  It was to be a new experience for both of them, he supposed, but he had never asked Mina about her life before.  It was something he'd thought they'd talk about more as they got closer, but she'd kept leaving.  
  
Coherent thought fled his mind as he felt Mina pull away and then watched as she let her dress fall to the floor.  Within moments, his skillful hands had her smallclothes off, leaving her completely nude in front of him.  Eyes and hands studied her perfect form, sloping breasts buoyed up by full undersides, crowned with nipples that were a light copper shade and shone like her skin.  He let his hands explore with a caress, trailing down her neck and meandering across her shoulders, tracing the sinewy muscle of her arms and abdomen.  She was nearly hairless, the sparse silvery hair over her sex looked almost like an afterthought, and he stared, never having seen a woman so bare before.    
  
Balimund busied himself with kissing her breasts, tasting each peak in turn and suckling them to hardened points, reveling in the soft moans he drew from Mina.  There was a delicateness to her, though he knew she wasn't fragile or inexperienced, he still felt as if he had to be careful with her, that she was too precious.  Perhaps this first time they both were, for her touch was light as she threaded fingers through his hair, arching her back and pressing her chest towards his mouth.    
  
A thick finger that seemed all knuckle and callous slid inside of her, carefully parting her folds and pushing in, making her gasp.  His mouth was still busy licking chest and stomach, an arm wrapped around her.  Balimund was bent at a strange angle, able to smell her aroused scent, the wet musk that filled him and encouraged like too much drink, and his mouth moved easily from nipple to navel and back again, painting stripes on her skin with the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't see her face.  All he could hear was her gasps and moans, and felt the grip of her against him, fingers raking through his hair and down his back as he worked.  
  
Withdrawing his finger slowly, he plunged it back into her, repeating the movement but not increasing the pace.  Mina squirmed in his grip, her hips trying to urge him faster, to make more friction where there was none.  He rubbed the rest of his hand over against her, brushing the soft skin as the finger worked easily in and out of her wetness, never really touching the tiny knot of nerves she kept trying to grind against his hand.  Balimund wanted to taste her, to see her ready and heated as she lay before him.  Giving a nipple a hard suck, he felt her tighten around his finger, jerking slightly at the savageness of his mouth, then relaxing again.  An excited trill went through him as she clenched and he eased another finger in beside the first, making her moan even more.    
  
The added finger and the work of his mouth delighted her, making her even wetter than before.  It took only a few strokes with the two fingers before he could hear her breath beginning to stutter, and knew he'd at last gotten her to where he'd wanted.  The telltale shake of her knees beginning to give way prompted him to scoop her up and take her to the bed.  He stepped back, gazing at her against the backdrop of his bed as she looked up at him.  
  
"You are entirely too clothed, my new husband."  She grinned.  
  
"Suppose I am."  Balimund grinned back, standing up to take off his shirt.  Mina's fingers went quickly to the laces on his trousers, unlacing and pushing them away along with his smallclothes.  
  
He tumbled into the bed at the urging of her hands, erection already full and swollen before he renewed their kiss.  The thought had been to take his time, to explore and learn but Balimund can feel the heat within him.  It was an urgency that somehow seemed easier to control when they were standing but in his bed he can barely string together his thoughts, let alone continue a slow pace.  If anyone could, with his naked and willing wife next to them, laying kisses across every inch of bare skin she could reach, they were a much better man than he.  
  
His fingers dove between her legs again, parting her folds, aided this time by his tongue.  Between her legs, he appreciated his new lover, his wife, touching her tenderly, stroking her with care to see what she liked best.  Her dewy was skin radiant, dark and glistening with want, and seeing her arousal increased his own.  Licking his lips, he tasted her as a bee does a flower, though she wasn't sweet but womanly, a milky earthiness to her flavor that he took little time to appreciate before reapplying his tongue to her slit, stroking her from end to end with swipes from his tongue.    
  
She was as he'd wanted, ready for him, easily toppled toward a climax, and he let his tongue do what he'd denied his fingers, flicking over her bud then suckling it.  Her thighs clamped down around his ears, and he heard only her muffled gasps and moans, but didn't stop.  Alternating sucking and hard lashes with his tongue, he kept up the pressure, making her buck up from the mattress as he switched from one to the other.  
  
Writhing and twisting around him, she came, Balimund never stopping the attention he lavished between her legs.  His erection was pressing into the unforgiving bed, her thighs had become vice-like around him and she hadn't yet released him, his legs were cramped and he was rapidly becoming aware of how much of his body wasn't actually on the bed, but he kept on, working her through her orgasm with shorter licks until he felt her shaking slow, her gasps no longer as intense.  
  
Mina's face was relaxed and glowing, her eyes closed as she lay back, her breathing still rapid.  He scooted up to kiss her, and was unprepared for the intensity of her kiss.  Despite her climax, she craved more, and they kissed with the hunger he'd been trying to hold back before, teeth and tongue meeting in their desire to sate themselves.  
  
Her hand drifted down as they kissed, and she wrapped a hand around his cock, slowly stroking it as they continued to kiss.  It was a welcome motion, if a little overwhelming, and Balimund found himself breaking their kisses to moan, needing air that didn't seem to reach him, a release that felt far too close.  He moved to position himself at her entrance, letting her hand flutter away, up to his chest and arms, where she was busy raking her nails lightly over his skin.  
  
Sheathing himself with teeth-grinding slowness, he pressed into her gradually, drawing out their combined moans.  Around him, she was heaven, hot and wet, tighter than he'd felt around his fingers, grasping as he moved slowly back and forth.  Balimund gave her a soft kiss, which Mina countered with her tongue, scraping her teeth along his jaw.  Her amber eyes glittered in the light, hard and dark, filled with need and urgency as they met his own, and he gave in.  Faster he went, thrusting into her tightness, exchanging desperate, open kisses the ended with gasps and whimpers as their hips met.  Mina squeezed around him, making him go faster without words, the two of them rocking together, making a cacophony of noise.  
  
Sweat trickled down his body, but he ignored it, using her shoulders to leverage himself into a series of savage pumps, making both of them cry out.  Balimund was nearly there, Mina matching his movements, surging up to meet his hips, constricting around his cock, saying his name with her breathy, sweet voice.  It broke him, and Balimund gave a strangled moan, breathless as he released with short, shallow strokes.    
  
Afterward, he rolled to his side, cradling Mina in his arms, greedily sucking in air in long gulps now that his breath came normally again.  They didn't speak, but held each other with sweet, soft kisses and caresses, letting themselves come back down.  Outside he could hear the sounds of Riften just getting to mid-morning, though it felt like days had passed since he'd woken up and walked to the Temple of Mara.  Vendors called out and the clang of Arnbjorn's hammer at his forge made Balimund smile, but nothing sounded as sweet as listening to Mina breathe next to him.  He shut his eyes after dropping a kiss to the back of her neck and on her shoulders, unable to think of anything other than how incredibly wonderful the day had been already.


	8. Epilogue

There was prejudice in the land, and some folk wore their deep hatred as if it were a comfortable set of clothes.  Others acted as if they never formulated their own racist thoughts, or acted outwardly hateful, that they weren't a part of the problem.  Sadly, Balimund had learned that he'd been part of the second group, but he was learning, growing into something different since he'd married Mina.

That day stood out above all others in his recent memories, and he remembered her wide smile as the priest gave them their vows, how the Temple of Mara had been filled with people that she'd helped, from all over Skyrim, friends that cared for both of them.  Whenever he glanced down at his hand and saw the wedding ring there, it made him recall the fluttery feeling he'd gotten in his stomach when he'd put it on for the first time.  It was a comfortable weight now, different and new, but had quickly become part of his hand, just as Mina had become part of his life.

"Marriage isn't the way I thought it would be,"  he confessed to her, "but I'm happy."

"As am I."  She answered, snuggling into his chest, which she was using as a pillow.  His rough hand stroked her silvery hair as it lay spread against him and he smiled, closing his eyes.

It had been weeks ago, but she'd stayed with him, never leaving Riften once.  Laughingly, they referred to it as a reverse honeymoon, where instead of going away together they settled into a routine at home, domestic life her vacation from the work that kept her away.  In the beginning their nights had been as passionate as the first time, the two of them giving in almost immediately to hidden desires behind their flirtation.  What it gave way to was something more tender, an opportunity to bond and grow closer as they started out in marriage.

Nights had been filled alternately with lovemaking and talk, and Balimund had shamefully admitted his conflicted feelings about elves as they spoke.  Her demeanor had never truly changed as he talked, she'd never gotten angry or accusing, but remained sage and thoughtful, trying to put two different ideas and experiences together, though at times he sensed her disappointment.

It was the former that was on his mind at the moment, and he let his fingers drift down her skin, down into the nightdress she'd donned.  His touch was tender instead of heated, and the callouses on his fingers stroking her skin, tracing the contours of her stomach.    
  
"Are you ready for breakfast?"  He asked, his voice a low rumble.  
  
"Alright."  She answered, smiling.  Balimund asked her the same thing every morning, when he went off to work the forge before she awoke, he would come in to ask her a little later, but when they lazed about in bed together, he joined her for the meal.  
  
Fifteen minutes later he came back bearing two plates, handing them both to her as he got back into the bed.  He was comfortable and happy, listening to Asbjorn outside already, working the forge in his stead.  In time, he knew he wouldn't have these mornings or their long talks, that they would become as infrequent as the rains while she went off and did what she needed to do.  But for now, he was comfortable, kissing Mina's hand, letting her feed him a slice of apple dipped in honey.  Whatever happened, he was sure that her place was with him, that thought bringing him more comfort than any other since he'd met her.


End file.
